


The True Marksman

by JohnathonKlett



Category: Livin' in the mountains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:43:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3815935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnathonKlett/pseuds/JohnathonKlett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the year 1909. 47 year old Jack Anderson has just encountered one of the luckiest endeavors of his life: a target shooting contest. He is completely confident in his abilities to shoot with skill like that of a sniper, being that he is a mountain man and lives off of the land. Read about how Jack goes to the town of Deadwood, South Dakota and "shoots like he never shot before!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The True Marksman

The True Marksman by Johnathon Klett Once there was a man named Jack Anderson, who lived among the animals and trees. He had a cozy little cabin, and all of his clothes were made from animal furs. One Wednesday afternoon, Jack was just minding his own business - selling skins for money - when a man in a tie nonchalantly walked up to him and said, “Good day to you, sir. You look like a man with a remarkably fascinating talent with a fine iron.” Jack looked stumped for a minute as he tried to interpret what this city slicker was talking about. “Sorry mister, I don’t think I can understand a word coming out of your mouth.” Jack said. “Do forgive me for my enhanced vocabulary. I was implying that you are able to shoot a gun extremely well.” replied the man. “Now THAT I can understand. So, about my shooting…” said Jack. “Of course. My name is Harland J. Foster, President of Deadwood Shooting Sports, and I am here to offer you a chance to win $50,000.” said the man. “$50,000!” yelled Jack. “This sounds too good to be true…or is it?” Harland made a quick chuckle at this remark. “No, sir. This statement is 100%, positively, remarkably true!” he said. “Okay, if you’re speaking the truth here, how can I get this money?” asked Jack. “There is only one way to earn such a fortune around here: be a champion shooter,” explained Harland. “Get 50 bullseyes in a row and you win!” Jack’s mouth was hanging wide open with surprise. “Ahh… umm… okay.” said Jack with a grin starting to form. “So, what do you say? Will you go to Deadwood next Friday to shoot targets like you’ve never shot before?” asked Harland. “Yes, sir. You can count on me to arrive at the shooting range - not a second late!” exclaimed Jack, overflowing with joy. “Alright then. Meet me there this Friday at 8:00am sharp. Good day to you, sir.” Harland said as he left the store. Jack handed the rest of his pelts he collected to the store clerk, received his money, and walked out the store. Then he jumped onto his horse, Stocky, and galloped home. ______________________________________________________________________ The next morning, he polished his trusty revolver, loaded it with bullets, and placed it in his holster. Then he walked outside and found a big tree that would work perfectly as a shooting target. He unsheathed his knife and cut a chunk out of it to make it look like a shooting target. He pulled his iron and took aim. BANG! Through the smoke of his gun, he walked over to the hole that was made. “WHOO-EEE!” Jack cried. “Smack-dab in the middle! Okay, 1 down, 49 to go.” He went around the forest, finding trees big and small to use for shooting practice. When Jack finally took a break, he’d made 50 targets, as well as 50 bullseyes. Jack thought to himself, If I made 50 bullseyes of my own, I can surely do it again in Deadwood. For the rest of the night, he polished his revolver and laid out an outfit to wear to the tournament: his favorite fox skins. ______________________________________________________________________ On Friday morning at 5:30am, Jack packed his bullet pouch full with revolver ammunition. “Time to head off to Deadwood, Stocky.” Jack said to his steed. He hopped on, and they rode all the way to Yellowknife without stopping - obviously because they were both excited to shoot…Well, Jack was, at least. Horses don’t have thumbs. When they got to the shooting warehouse, Jack hitched Stocky to the post and walked through the door to see Harland. “Ah, it’s so good to see your face again!” said Harland. “I said I would be here not a second late, and I have kept my word.” Jack said with a powerful trigger itch. Jack readied his gun at the shooting range and let off the first round. BOOM! One bullseye! BANG! Another one! KA-POW! A third one! He kept shooting until there were 49 bullseyes - a record unmatched by anyone. “Okay, sir. One more bullseye and you win the $50,000 grand prize! There’s even a bonus question, although it is quite simple. You see, nobody has shown up here for years, so we’re setting the stakes extremely low. If you can name 3 firearm manufacturers, you will win free ammunition for life!” cried Harland. Jack aimed the revolver at the target and fired. POW! When the smoke had settled, he looked at the target and saw his mistake. He had missed by 1/2 an inch! “Oh no!” cried Harland. “WAIT! You can eliminate the error if you give me a dollar.” Jack looked at the floor for a few seconds then said, “I don’t have a dollar. Sorry, mister.” NEIGH! “Uh-oh! Sounds like Stocky is having trouble. DON’T record this yet. I’ll be back in a second.” said Jack as he quickly walked outside. He found Stocky with his head facing down. In a pool of saliva, he saw a silver dollar glimmering in the sun. “Boy, you swallowed that ages ago. I thought you would never cough that up, but thanks. Talk about perfect timing.” said Jack. He picked up the silver dollar, and headed back into the warehouse. “Here you go, sir. One dollar!” Jack proclaimed. “Okay! You are now at 49 bullseyes. Make it to 50 and win the money!” yelled Harland as he wiped off the coat of spit from the coin. Jack took aim, fired, and made the last bullseye. “I believe you owe me $50,000, sir.” said Jack with his arm outstretched. “I certainly do, don’t I?” laughed Harland. “Here you go: fifty thousand dollars!” He handed the money to Jack when he stopped. “Wait a second… Do you still want to answer the bonus question?” Harland asked. “21… 22… 23… Browning, Winchester, Remington… 24… 25…” said Jack simply, without looking at Harland. “Very good, sir. You now have free ammunition for life! We will send crates of bullets to your closest general store and they will have a sign that says ‘JACK ANDERSON, CHAMPION SHOOTER. PERMITTED TO RECEIVE AMMUNITION, FREE OF CHARGE’. I can now say that the LORD has blessed you with the talent of a true marksman.” Jack just stood there and smiled. “Thanks, Harland. See ya.” he said. He walked out the door to his horse. “Thanks for the dollar, buddy.” ~THE END~


End file.
